Love in Reality: A Contemporary Romance (The Blackjack Quartet) (21 page)

Lissa stopped humming and stepped back. She had no makeup on, her hair, usually smooth and tidy, was a mess, and she was barefoot. She looked sexier than the raciest Victoria’s Secret model. What she wore was hardly risqué, but he’d never been more aroused by a woman’s body. What joy. He grabbed her by the waist and twirled her around, giddy with the freedom to touch her.

“Sorry,” he said, laughing. His hands had been linked at the small of her back, but then he rucked up her top to stroke her skin where it disappeared under the cute shorts she wore. What pleasure not to feel the weight of the transmitter normally hooked onto her waistband. Even more pleasurable was feeling her waist, and hips, and her ass. She’d held her arms out to him as if to say she was his. For now she was.

He started to kiss her, free finally to do it properly, even make a little noise. Maybe she was still a bit sleepy. Her embrace was a little shy but enthusiastic. When he felt himself pushing, he drew back.

She opened her eyes, startled.

“Now that you’ve got me here, what do you propose to do with me?” he asked.

“You mean, other than the sex? Or were you planning some marathon session that will use up all our time?” she teased.

“It’s a thought. We could try…” He let his voice taper off. “You really are free here, to do whatever you want. Something forbidden, perhaps. Other than sex, that is.” She had to have a vote.

She peered up at him to check that he wasn’t kidding. “Oh, wow—you’re asking what I miss the most in there? Like, music, books, TV, the news? No, I can catch up on all that stuff when I’ve been fished out. I’ve been lucky with the food—this week’s the first time I’ve been on the Fish Food, you know.” She grinned. “What I want most is uncensored conversation. To talk to you without worrying about the game, the other Fish, your colleagues, my family…”

He waited while she finished her thought.

Her eyes widened. “I know what it is. I miss privacy. I want to have a private conversation with you,” she announced. She peeped up at him. “After the sex, that is.”

“I believe we can accommodate both those requests.” He danced her over to the bed. “Lights on or off?”

“Off. It always feels like daytime on the set. Ooh, privacy and darkness—you sure do know how to treat a girl.”

“Spare no expense, that’s my motto.”

Rand tugged down the covers before turning off the light by the bed. In the darkness, he sensed Lissa taking off her top then heard the slur of fabric coming down her legs. He wished he could see her naked, but there would be enough time for that later. After dropping a few condoms on the bedside table, Rand shed his own clothes, kicking off his shoes and then stripping down as fast as possible. She was in the bed first, moving over to make room for him.

They reached for each other, pulling close on the still-cool sheets. She felt wonderful, warm, silky smooth. She smelled even better. And the taste of her… He kissed her lips, her chin, along her shoulder, under her ear. From the way she tugged him even closer, he had no reason to doubt that she was as eager as he was, but still he held back.

He hesitated, then felt Lissa reach across his shoulder to the bedside table where he’d left the condoms. She slid her palm down his side, over his hip and curled it around his erection.

“Ah,” she breathed, satisfied.

“Ahh,” he agreed breathlessly.

His brain was done thinking.

* * *

Ah, the thrill of pleasure from stroking him properly. Not sure why he’d hesitated—maybe he worried she felt pressured. Silly man, she smiled to herself. They wouldn’t have time to do everything, but they could try.

She pushed his shoulders back against the mattress and took a nice long time getting the condom on him. Then she bent down to kiss him, finding his mouth in the dark. She was having a blast, running her palms up his chest to his shoulders. Not a lot of chest hair, taut, and deliciously warm. She straddled his thighs and started to nuzzle his neck.

He tweaked her nipples, using the ridged pads on his thumbs. The friction caused Libby to gasp from the surge of pleasure. She throbbed, empty and aching for more. She wanted him inside her.

Rand murmured something to her she didn’t catch. Before she could puzzle it out, he did something tricky with his body and flipped them all around, with her on the bottom. He was kissing his way down her body—she could feel the slight friction as his chin moved around her breast. She arched her back and instinct took over. Shocking how well her body knew his mouth and hands. Everything he did felt both new and familiar, surprising and just what she wanted.

Then his head moved lower and Libby’s thoughts scattered to the corners of the room. It felt so good—hot, tight, soft…hard…
right there
.

* * *

When Libby could think again, her sweaty skin prickled as it dried in the room’s air conditioning. Rand was walking back from the bathroom, looking sated and yes, a little bit smug. He’d turned on the bedside light, she noticed as she lay with her head turned toward him. He was still nude. Oh, wow. This was the first time she could see his body. She started connecting the visual with all her memories of touching him in the Control Room.

“You’re very good-looking,” she said.

He paused a few feet from the bed. “Thank you. So are you.”

Libby glanced down her body, bare except for a sheet twisted around her ankles. She wasn’t anything special, but if he thought she was attractive that was okay by her.

“Thanks.”

He handed her a bottle of water, its cap already half twisted open. “Do you want the light off again?”

She shook her head. It wasn’t that bright in the room and the shadows were very un-Fishbowl-like. It comforted her that she couldn’t see the farthest corners. “It’s fine.”

She sat up and piled the pillows against the headboard. She patted the empty space beside her. “What’s the time? How long do we have?” she asked. It hurt to think about leaving here, leaving him.

“Not quite two hours. I need to get you back before 5 a.m. in case any of the morning techs get in early.”

Libby relaxed. Still time. “You promised me an uncensored conversation,” she teased. His hair was ruffled, so she reached up to comb her fingers through it. He grinned at her.

He took a swig from her water before handing it back to her. “Of course. How about those Dodgers?”

“Very funny. And it’s the Phillies, anyway.”

“Heretic.”

“Hey, your team was the one that kicked Brooklyn to the curb,” she pointed out. “The Phillies have been loyal, so we’re loyal back.”

“Except when they suck.”

“Oh, we’re loyal then, too. But it’s like a marriage—we reserve the right to tell our beloved Phils what they’re doing wrong when they’re doing it wrong.” Sports? They could do better than that. Couldn’t they? “Okay, so we both watch baseball. What else do we have in common?”

“We’re both good in bed,” he said drily.

Libby could feel herself blushing. Don’t say something Lissa wouldn’t say, something stupid, in response to his compliment. “We both watch
The Fishbowl
,” she said.

“True,” he conceded. “We both like to read.”

“How do you know that? I’m not allowed any books in there.”

“Your apartment in Philly. Your sister’s desk had all the law books, but yours had some David McCullough books and an Isabel Allende novel.”

“Wow. You remember what books I had out? That’s impressive.” They were all her books, but he had no way of knowing that. “So what do you read?”

“Thrillers, mysteries, Stephen King—that kind of thing. And books on film,” he added.

“Film?”

“I went to USC’s film school,” he said.

“Cool. Did you know you wanted to work in TV when you went there?”

He reached out to cup his hand around her shoulder then run his palm down her arm. “Are you asking me if
The Fishbowl
is my dream job? It’s not.”

“What is?” Libby played with the label on the bottle to keep from touching him. It hurt not to talk honestly about her life, about the parts of her future she thought she’d worked out and the parts she still wasn’t sure about. The truth involved revealing she was a law student, and she couldn’t figure out how to do that. Telling him the truth now might screw things up, one way or another.

“I wanted to make documentaries. I thought seeing how a reality show was made would be educational.”

She heard the past tense but ignored it. “So? Has it been useful?”

Rand laughed. “I’ll admit it, I had not appreciated how much fiction is actually involved in a reality show. I was pretty naive when I got the job. So I guess it’s been educational.”

“When are you going to start making your own films?” she asked.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I was so certain five years ago what I would be doing with my career, but now I’m less sure.”

Safe now to touch him. Libby put her hand on his thigh. “Well, dreams are important. Maybe you should stop worrying about the future and just remember the way you felt five years ago.”

Rand put his hand over hers. “I think I’m afraid to,” he said quietly. “What if I won’t be any good?”

“So? People try to do stuff all the time. Sometimes they’re successful and sometimes not. But success isn’t always the point. You didn’t say you had to be a successful filmmaker, you just want to make your own films. If you can’t make a living at it, then do something else as a day job, or get financial backing. I don’t know. What do these things cost?” She guessed he wasn’t broke, but maybe he wasn’t rich either.

“I didn’t know you gave career counseling on the side,” he said in a tight voice.

Although he was still looking at her, Libby could tell from his frown that she’d annoyed him. Clearly that subject was off limits.

He took a drink of water, then said in a lighter voice, “What about you? Is bartending the big dream?”

She fudged. “I’ve got time to figure out my perfect career, and meanwhile, I work at the Cork.” She smiled at him. “At least you had that moment where you saw your dream. I haven’t yet.”

Except for this. She stared into his eyes. Except for right now, with Rand. She would have dreamed this moment, if she’d ever thought it was possible. She’d settled for a nondescript love life, figuring that was Lissa’s strong suit. Right now, naked and lying alongside the nicest guy she’d ever met, all her other relationships looked pale and uninteresting.

This was quality—not a relationship that would fade with time. Rand had a magnetic pull to him that was so much sexier than Dylan’s machismo or Bryce’s physique.

Libby got up on her knees next to him. He watched her, unsmiling, as she ran her hand down his shoulder, along his arm, the elbow, wrist, palm, fingers. She lifted his hand to her mouth and kissed the knuckles, the pads of his fingers. His eyes half-closed. She ignored his growing erection, although that wasn’t easy to do, and concentrated on making love to his hand.

After a while, Rand said, “We still have an hour, you know.”

“Mmm-hmmm,” she agreed.

“Light on or off?” he leaned in, on the very edge of kissing her.

“On,” she said against his mouth.

She watched this time, learning the curve of his neck as he made love to her breasts, tenderly at first, then deeper, causing sensations to sizzle down to her toes. She arched her back to give him more access. She wanted him everywhere, on her, in her, over her. Oh, yes, definitely over her.

* * *

Libby woke up suddenly at the sound of Rand’s phone. It took her a moment to remember where she was and why. She had been dreaming about him being on the show with her, and his boss had stormed into the gym where they were on side-by-side treadmills to tell them they were doing it all wrong. Libby was still unsettled by the dream. She rolled toward his warmth, pressing herself against the heat of his skin. She didn’t want to go back to the ’Bowl.

“Mm. We need to get up,” he said. “Debbie is meeting us in thirty minutes to reverse the procedure and get you back into bed.”

He turned away from her, replaced the phone on the bedside table and switched on the light. Libby started kissing his skin along the top of his shoulder and his shoulder blades. He wasn’t muscle-bound like Dylan and Bryce, but he felt just right to her lips. She slipped her hand down his torso. She was pleased to feel his response.

“Text her back. Make it forty-five,” she murmured, desperate to extend their time. Her hand did the rest of the talking for her.

“Uh, okay,” he agreed hastily. Text sent, he tossed the phone on the bedside table and grabbed a condom. Libby knelt up and took it from him. She had fun using her hands and mouth in all sorts of ways to coax an even greater rise out of him before putting the condom on. She climbed on then, letting him settle her into place. He started to touch her skin, up to her breasts but not quite to her nipples, then down to her hips but avoiding her sex. It was frustrating in a very sexy way, and made Libby bold and fearless. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back, enjoying the way her hair slithered over her shoulders.

As their pace quickened, she could feel a shared tension. He seemed to know exactly when to get serious about bringing her to climax, when to touch her in the perfect spot. Afterward, with him still inside her, they kissed vigorously, their lips and tongues no longer gentle. He rolled her over and started moving inside her.

“Oh,” she said stupidly. She should have guessed he hadn’t come—he was still huge inside her.

“An old Jedi mind trick,” he teased.

“I’d giggle, but—oh, ahh, yes,
that
,” she exclaimed. “Oh, don’t stop doing that.”

He didn’t.

* * *

Lissa got in the shower as Rand picked up their clothes from the floor. He wanted to follow her in there, but he knew they’d take three times as long, and it still wouldn’t slake his appetite for her. Already he missed her body and smile, her beautiful sleepy look of satisfaction after she’d come, even the surprise in her eyes when he’d kept going. No clue how he could go back to their stolen kisses and silent caresses after tonight.